Lightning and Stardust
by Aurora West
Summary: When Thor slept, he dreamed. And his dreams were haunted by everything that had gone so terribly wrong in the past five years. Post-Endgame.


Thor hadn't slept well for years.

It went back to his dreams of Surtur and the destruction of Asgard but had become far, far worse. When he slept, he dreamed. And his dreams were haunted by everything that had gone so terribly wrong in the past five years. His father dying, with his final revelation the fact that he'd lied about everything. Asgard being blown to atoms and stardust. The deck of _The Statesmen_, strewn with the bodies of half of his people. Heimdall's glassy-eyed, dead gaze. Loki.

Defeating Thanos was supposed to have fixed all of this. They had brought everyone back—the Avengers and him, the strongest of them. Absolutely. Thor, God of Thunder, the strongest Avenger. They'd set the universe right, they'd wiped Thanos from existence. Twice, in fact. So he should have been twice as fixed.

But in the days and weeks, and then months, after the Battle of Earth, Thor had come to understand that he wasn't fixed. That something in him was irreparably broken, and no amount of drinking himself into a stupor could wash that brokenness away. They hadn't brought everyone back. There were some people that couldn't ever be brought back, people who had been slaughtered senselessly. Natasha and Stark, they had chosen their deaths. The half of Asgard that had been chosen to remain on _The Statesmen_, remain and die, hadn't. Heimdall's gaze haunted him. And Loki's good-bye, before his stupid, selfless, idiotically heroic attempt to kill Thanos, well, that had torn a hole in Thor's heart that had yet to start healing. He'd gotten his brother back. And then Thanos and this stupid universe had taken everything.

Maybe that was why he'd stayed with the Guardians. They'd lost someone too. They understood how intolerable it was to see joyful reunions and know that there wasn't one waiting for you.

They'd failed Gamora and in doing so, failed themselves. Just as he had.

Thor grunted, coming half-awake in his fitful-as-always sleep, and scratched at his belly as he rolled over. These days, it was hard to tell when he was sleeping and when he wasn't. The nights, such as they were, passed, and he had his nightmares for entertainment, so he had to assume he always drifted off. Everything was peaceful tonight, though. He'd drunk no more or less than usual—that was to say, still too much—but his ghosts had decided to leave him alone.

There was a noise, faint—the sound of a foot scraping on the floor. "Tree, I've told you not to come in here," Thor said blearily.

When there was no answer, he opened his eyes.

A figure was standing in front of the window, staring out at the passing stars—a figure that was most definitely not Groot, which was the only intrusion Thor would brook into his private quarters. His arm shot out and with a heavy whistle of metal and threat, Stormbreaker jumped into his hand. He sat up, growling something inarticulate.

The intruder spoke then. "You know, in hindsight, I can understand _some_ of the times you wanted to fight with me in the past. Even if you always _did _have a tendency to overreact." Spinning on his heel, the figure turned. Starlight from outside cast just enough light to see by. Thor's throat constricted to nothing and for a moment, he couldn't breathe as he stared at who was standing in his cabin.

"But brother," Loki went on, "I haven't seen you for five years, and I can't _possibly _fathom what I could have done to make you want to take a swing at me with _that_ thing." One of his eyebrows quirked up and a smile tugged at the side of his mouth. "Nice, by the way. Hammer not heavy enough?"

"Loki?" Thor finally said, his voice coming out strangled. His brother shrugged. He dropped Stormbreaker to the deck with a clang and rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm still asleep. This is a dream."

Wrinkling his nose and nodding, Loki said, "I expect so."

Every time Thor had dreamed of Loki in the past five years, it had been of him in his last moments—having the life choked out of him while he kicked and struggled and fought for his life. No dignity, just fear and desperation and a last airless taunt. Or of the moments after that, his neck broken, head kinked at a sickening angle, blood leaking from his eyes and nose, the warring light and dark in his face snuffed out forever. Sometimes it was his last words, the way he'd looked at Thor as he'd pronounced himself _Odinson_, but that was almost worse.

But this Loki was whole, with that smirk on his face that meant you'd never know what was really going on in his head. It was the way Thor had tried to remember his brother before he'd _stopped_ trying to remember his brother, because it was impossible to see anything but his own failure.

Loki approached the bed slowly, his head tilted, studying Thor. "You have two eyes again," he remarked. "I think I liked you better with just one."

This figment of his slumbering imagination was _judging _him, Thor could tell. But that was exactly like Loki—the way Loki had been, past tense, _past tense_—it wasn't as though Thor didn't know that he'd let himself go, and his brother would never let that pass without comment. And Thor would have given as good as he'd got; if there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was Loki being snide without being challenged. But he'd probably laugh anyway, despite himself, Loki had always had that ability, to draw the humor out of any situation, especially those where there shouldn't have been any.

Was there something funny about this? Here he was, Thor, God of Thunder, King of Asgard—well, former King of Asgard, he'd abdicated, hadn't he? Because what good was he as a king? He'd tried it and failed miserably. So here he was, on a tiny ship with a collection of misfits and losers, flying around space doing not much of anything.

Wait, _that _was funny. He was on a ship with misfits and losers, and he fit right in. Loki would be right to judge him, and the fact that his brain had created the specter of his brother to do it actually _was _funny. Funny and fitting. If he couldn't be honest with himself, why not conjure the one person who'd never had any problem telling Thor _exactly _what his failings were?

He looked up at Loki, about to articulate some of this. Even though, if he was being honest, he knew he'd never be able to, because he'd never been the one between the two of them who was good with words. But as he met his brother's eyes and opened his mouth, he burst into tears instead.

A flicker of surprise crossed Loki's face and his brow furrowed. Thor tried to get his tears under control but now that they'd started, they wouldn't stop, and he put a hand to his forehead and cried.

The mattress depressed as Loki sat at the edge of it, and Thor swiped enough tears from his eyes to see his brother pick up a dirty sock from the sheet with an expression of delicate distaste. Then, Loki just watched him, his eyebrows drawn together, until Thor, with several shuddering breaths, swallowed his sobs. "I'm sorry," Thor finally managed.

"For what?"

He'd meant for breaking down. Faced with his dead family members, he couldn't keep it together. But it applied to much more than that, he realized. So instead of answering, he just shook his head.

Loki reached out and gripped his shoulder. "I missed you too, by the way," he said with a crooked smile. "You know, all those times you told me you cried for me, I'm not sure I ever really believed it."

Dragging the back of his hand across his nose, Thor grumbled, "Why would I make that up?" He wiped the tears and snot that his face had transferred to his hand on the sheet, which made Loki raise his eyebrows. "Not a word," Thor said warningly, though the threat was somewhat diminished by the fact that tears were still leaking from his eyes.

Loki held up a hand. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, brother."

"You absolutely would," Thor said. Then, he leaned forward and pulled Loki into a tight hug. This was a dream, obviously, but he wouldn't forgive himself if he woke from it without embracing his brother once.

And it felt so _real_, so real that Thor almost started weeping again. Loki's body heat seeped through the Sakaaran leather that he'd worn in his final days and Thor could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, in his chest. Loki let his chin rest on Thor's shoulder, an echo of childhood that twisted his stomach with a bittersweet ache.

They stayed that way for several seconds longer than they ever would have done if this were real, with Loki clinging to Thor tighter than he had for hundreds of years. But Loki hadn't said anything about the blubbering mess Thor was, so Thor wouldn't say anything about this display of blatant sentimentality.

After another moment, Loki broke the hug, leaning back. There was a shine to his eyes, but then he blinked and looked away and it was gone. Thor stared at his face in profile, still amazed by his mind's ability to paint this much detail in a dream. It could end at any time, he realized with a tendril of panic. His fitful sleep could interrupt this, and even though it wasn't real, this was the closest he was ever going to get to having his brother back. Unless he came up with a way into the quantum realm again, which seemed unlikely. He doubted anyone would let him use it just to visit the people he'd lost. They'd suspect that he'd stay in the past with them and create an alternate timeline, and Thor wouldn't be able to tell them that they were wrong.

He drew in a breath. If this was the closest he'd get to seeing Loki ever again, he had to ask the question that had been gnawing at him for five years. "Why did you do it?"

At this, Loki's head snapped around, his eyebrows raised. "Oh, I see," he said slowly. "You blame _me _for all of it. I suppose you're going to say it's because I took the Tesseract."

Taken aback by Loki's tone, Thor said, "You _did _take the Tesseract."

With a scoff, then a sigh, Loki said, "Of course. I should have expected this. If something goes wrong, just blame Loki." He waved a hand at nothing and added, sounding aggrieved, "This is _exactly _like you, it really is, Thor."

Thor opened his mouth to respond, but Loki seemed to have hit some kind of stride—of course, he always did, his brother—and went on, "You know, it's just like when we were children, _I _was the one that everyone assumed had come up with whatever we were in trouble for—"

It probably wasn't the right thing to do, but Thor laughed. When Loki scowled at him, he said, "Oh, come on, Loki. You came up with your fair share of bad ideas."

"You were right there next to me," Loki said. "And I don't recall you urging caution. At least _I_ did, once in a while. When your ideas were particularly idiotic or likely to get us in either serious trouble or serious peril."

Thor met Loki's eyes. His brother stared back, looking like he was daring Thor to say it. And when had Thor ever been able to resist a dare? "You have to admit, taking the Tesseract was pretty idiotic."

Loki's throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, but for a moment, he didn't speak. His eyes narrowed, and then he looked towards the window, so that in profile, Thor could see the pain on his brother's face. Joy and despair, the same battle that had always played out there—in his mind too, and soul, Thor thought. Even though Loki had always thought his inner life was such a mystery, Thor had always read him better Loki would have liked.

"I had no idea Thanos would come for it," Loki said tightly. "How could I have known that?"

"Loki." Thor reached out and gripped his arm. "I don't blame you. I never have." There was a long silence while Loki stared at Thor's hand on his arm. For good measure, Thor moved his hand to the side of Loki's neck and repeated, "I don't."

Maybe he should have. Maybe Thanos wouldn't have found them if Loki hadn't taken the Tesseract from the vault. Or maybe Thanos would have come across them anyway, and without the Tesseract to bargain with, the slaughter would have been total. After all, Loki had failed Thanos before.

There was another possibility, which was that he simply didn't want to blame Loki anymore. His brother wasn't blameless—had done terrible things, in fact, but in the end, they were brothers, and Thor could be more generous with him now than he could be with himself. His ghosts haunted him. He wouldn't make them carry the blame for deeds that couldn't be changed.

Loki looked back to Thor, a furrow in his brow. "Then what are you asking?"

Dropping his hand, Thor looked down at his gut and his beard, which still had the remains of dinner in it. Wait—no, he hadn't eaten dinner tonight. That meant it was from two days ago. Brushing at crumbs and whatever sauce was still caked in there—no one on _The Benatar _could cook so it wasn't much of a loss—he said, "Not that." His courage to ask had deserted him now, but when Loki made a noise that was halfway between a laugh and something far more mirthless, he looked back up. "You could have gone with them to Earth. You could have lied, told Thanos you'd serve him. You did, once." Loki winced, but Thor forced himself to go on, "You could have survived."

"Ah. Right." Loki folded his hands in his lap and raised an eyebrow. His fingers fidgeted, despite the fact that they were clasped together. "You think I came all that way—helped you fight our sister, destroyed my own home—only to turn my back on you?"

Thor felt tears prick at his eyes again, but he said, "You spent years turning your back on our family, I don't understand why you chose _that _moment, when it really mattered and you could have saved yourself, to stop."

A smile, both sad and amused, twitched at Loki's face. "Well, that's just it. When it mattered most, I wasn't going to leave you. I couldn't." He hesitated for a long moment, his fingers still fidgeting, looking like he was trying to decide whether or not to say something. In the end, his brow furrowed and he looked away, and Thor knew he'd decided against it. Instead, he said, "I did what you would have done for me. It's as simple as that."

"It was suicide," Thor said. He was going to cry again, he could feel it. "You had to know that. Thanos had two Infinity Stones. You didn't stand a chance."

Loki blinked. Then he shrugged. "Well yes. I'd think you'd be pleased that I finally internalized all that Asgard-glorious-death business. Better to die trying, right? Better than the alternative, at least, which—" But he cut off, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Thor waited, having a feeling that if he gave him enough time, Loki would continue. And after several moments, Loki drew a long breath and then exhaled. "Better that than _you_ dying thinking I'd betrayed you."

There was a lump growing in Thor's throat. "You chose a terrible time to get all…all noble."

"I think it may have been in there all along, despite my best intentions. Or would it be worst intentions?" With a smirk, Loki said, "I'm as surprised as you are." Then, raising an eyebrow, he added, "And speaking of dying, you look like you're a few deep fried meals away from a major cardiac episode."

This was both funny and irritating. Loki's gift. And that made Thor even sadder, which he hadn't thought was possible. Despite how fractious their relationship had been in the decade preceding Loki's death, Thor had never stopped loving his brother. Who else could be so insulting but still make you feel there was a joke to be in on? With a sniffle, Thor said, "A few Pizza Rolls never killed anyone."

"Define 'a few.'"

Despite the insult, Thor chuckled. It came out sounding thick. "You know, brother, on Earth they have this little thing? It's called 'body positivity?'"

"Yes," Loki said dryly. "That sounds like something you'd appreciate." For a moment, he regarded Thor. Then, he reached out and put a hand on Thor's shoulder. The weight, the warmth, none of it felt dream-like, which made the lump in Thor's throat grow larger. "Brother," Loki said, "you have to do something about this."

Swiping the back of his hand across his nose, Thor said, "Look, I've lost ten pounds, Mother said eat salad and I've been trying, but you know, Quill and Rocket eat garbage—literal garbage sometimes, in the case of the rabbit, and—"

Loki's eyebrows were raised high, but to his credit, all he said was, "Mother?" There was pain in his voice.

Thor waved a hand. The last thing he needed to think about was their dead mother right now. "It's a long story. There's time travel and…well, I went back to get the Aether out of Jane, you remember Jane? Who I didn't even—didn't even get to see, really; I couldn't stop and say hello to you, either, but I don't think you'd have liked to see me anyway, it was when you were in the dungeons, but Mother knew I was from the future…" He knew he was rambling, trying to stave off tears, trying to stave off what Loki was going to say. Because somehow he knew what was coming, despite the fact that he'd never had any of his mother's gifts.

Tightening his grip on Thor's shoulder, Loki said, "Sounds complicated, and probably a story for another time. Unfortunately mine isn't unlimited. Time, I mean." His eyes strayed and his shoulders rose and fell once in a sigh. "Anyway, I didn't mean your new…look. I meant all of this." With a vague gesture towards Thor, he said, "I know it's not easy, brother. And believe me—" He put a hand on his heart and smirked. "—I'm extremely touched that my death played a part in this breakdown. It's a nice shot to my ego to see how much you really care." Then, he sobered, his hand falling back to his side. "But you can't go on like this. You know you can't."

Thor's throat hurt from the effort of holding himself together. He felt like he could crumble at any moment and the epicenter of his entire being, the only thing keeping him in one piece, was concentrated right where the lump was pressing against his windpipe. "You should talk."

Loki shrugged and smiled slightly. "The irony of me telling you this isn't lost on me, don't worry."

After a second, Thor put his head in his hands, feeling his palms grow wet. "It was supposed to get better," he mumbled into the heels of his hands. "Bringing everyone back was supposed to make it better."

There was a sound from Loki, inarticulate, almost wounded, and then Thor felt him shift over until he could put his arm around Thor's shoulders. And this was _not _how it was supposed to work. Thor was the big brother, the strong one. The hero. Loki had always come to _him _for comfort, at least until he hadn't, until his little brother had starting shoving all his pain and resentment down inside himself. And the few times Loki _had _tried to offer comfort, Thor had brushed him off.

Now, he leaned into Loki, his brother's slighter frame feeling like a rock, like safe harbor in a storm. "Do you know what I've learned, brother?" Loki said, sounding musing. Deep breath. Then another. Tears kept dribbling from Thor's eyes, and he just made a noise, unable to say anything. But apparently that was enough of an answer for Loki, who went on, "You think you need something, and if you get it, it's going to fix what's wrong with you."

He paused, and Thor felt him swallow, then go on with a nonchalant bravado that did nothing to mask the rawness of his words, "I'm probably going to regret saying this out loud to you—actually, I know I am." At that, he paused, considered, and then sighed and continued, "But, you know, I've always felt as though I was…broken. And I thought…well, you know what I thought. I thought I could find it. Or be given it. Or just take it." His arm tightened around Thor's shoulders. "You're the only one that can fix it, though. And not by drinking or killing Thanos or flying around the galaxy in this pile of junk." He paused and added, "Don't ever tell anyone I've said all of this to you."

Thor tried to laugh, but it just came out as a gurgle. "There aren't many people left for you to maintain an image for." He sniffled and rubbed at his cheeks, lifting his head to glance at Loki. "You'd hate New Asgard, by the way. It's not the way we planned it at all. It smells like fish and it's cold all the time. Though maybe you don't mind the cold. Do you?" It occurred to him that he'd never asked, never had a conversation with Loki at all about the fact that he was Jötunn, not Asgardian, by birth. It was because he didn't care—because Loki was his brother, regardless of where he'd come from—but it suddenly seemed to him that perhaps it had come across that Loki was unimportant to him, and that it hadn't been worth asking about. "It's dark too. In the winter. I know you don't like the dark."

Raising his eyebrows, Loki said, "I'm surprised you remember that."

At that, Thor's chuckle came a little more easily. "You used to wake me up when we were children. Do you remember? You hated the noise the Bifrost made, you thought it meant something was coming to get you, and you wouldn't be able to see them in the dark." Not just something. Frost Giants. No wonder Loki had collapsed under the weight of all the secrecy and lies he'd been told his whole life.

Loki stiffened. "I _wish _you didn't remember that." After a silence, he added, "And no. I've never minded the cold. I could probably do without the smell of fish, though."

They were going to get back to what Loki had said eventually, as much as Thor didn't want to. This was what they did—anything like baring one's emotions required an immediate retreat into a safer subject. And this conversation couldn't get much barer. Was that a benefit of this being a dream?

After another minute of silence, Loki said, "Brother. You can't run from your problems forever."

"I'm not running forever," Thor said, trying for a confident tone. It just came out sounding petulant. When Loki raised his eyebrows, Thor repeated. "I'm not. Just until they don't seem so bad." Then, scrubbing at his wet cheeks again, he said, "I know, I know. I have to fix my problems myself. You know, that's awfully trite for you, Loki."

"Well." With a snort, Loki replied, "It could have been worse. At least I didn't say 'time heals all wounds.'"

Thor's eyes stung again. He was getting tired of crying. "It would be a lie, anyway."

"Which is one of my specialties." Loki patted Thor on the back, then withdrew his arm and watched for a moment. As always, Thor got the sense that Loki was taking in far more than he'd ever say. Well, no. It _hadn't_ always been that way. For a long time, Thor hadn't understood that his brother was always watching, always thinking. He'd thought…he wasn't sure anymore what he'd thought. He knew he hadn't always been charitable. Or understanding. Loki's quietness had registered as weakness, if he was being honest with himself. Thinking instead of doing, performing magic tricks instead of fighting, standing on the sidelines watching instead of throwing himself into the thick of things. Thor hadn't understood how your own mind could trap you, but the last five years had taught him otherwise. The way Loki had lashed out to deal with his pain was still inexcusable, but experience had shown Thor that grief wasn't logical. Grief didn't pay attention to rules or expectations. Grief was an all-consuming creature inhabiting every part of your body. It had made Thor behave in ways that he wasn't proud of, too.

Finally, Thor said, "I wonder if I can, sometimes. Stop running. Move on."

Loki gave a little sniff of laughter, then said, "Look, do I need to stab you?"

Despite himself, Thor laughed. It was watery, but it was still a laugh. "You know, that's not really the effective problem-solving tactic that you think it is."

With a smile—almost soft, considering the source—Loki said, "Still, it gets your attention usually." Then, the smile faded from his face and he glanced towards the window. With a sigh, he swung his legs off the bed and stood up. "Well, can't stay forever. Think about what I said, brother."

Thor grabbed Loki's forearm and opened his mouth to speak. No sound came out. What was he going to say? Stay? He'd been asking that of Loki for years now, and when Loki had finally agreed, Thanos had appeared and made the choice for both of them. Loki could no more stay here now than Thor could stay the way he'd been before all of this. For almost fifteen hundred years, almost nothing in Thor's life on Asgard had changed. Gilt parties, glorious battles, adventures and the songs and feasting that followed them. It hadn't prepared Thor for the way everything could change in an instant.

Though if he'd been looking, if he'd spent more time watching, he might have seen the moment that everything _had _changed. He'd been very young, but he still remembered the day his mother had presented a small baby to him and said, "Look, Thor, this is your new baby brother. Say hello to Loki." Thor had peered at the bundle, the small, scrunched face, and hadn't said anything for a long moment. His father had started to speak, but Mother had shushed him and waited for Thor to respond.

The baby had opened his eyes and Thor had watched him blink and look around. And he'd decided, as he'd looked into the baby's blue-gray eyes, that it would be fun to have a brother.

It had been. Of course, sometimes it hadn't been. That, he supposed, was part and parcel of having a brother. _Being_ a brother. There were good times and bad, and though Thor couldn't help feeling that they'd had more than their fair share of bad times, the two of them had had plenty of good ones, too. They'd had more good than bad. That was what hurt the most about him being gone, because Thor had been sure, as they'd traveled towards Earth aboard _The Statesman_, that the good times would begin to outweigh the bad once again.

Swallowing hard, Thor said, "If you were here, you'd make everything a hundred times harder."

Loki flashed a grin at him—the same grin that had gotten him into, and out of, plenty of trouble. "You know, maybe that's the real reason I did it. To make things easier for you, just for once. Give you a fighting chance to look like the smarter, better-looking one between the two of us."

"I think deep down, I liked the challenge," Thor said. _I love you_, was what he _wanted_ to say, but as Loki put his hand on Thor's outstretched arm, he knew he didn't need to. No, that was wrong. It wasn't that he didn't need to. It was that he already had.

"I told you, Thor," Loki said. "The sun will shine on us again. I don't make promises lightly."

"You're dead, Loki," Thor said. His voice came out sad, small, and drained.

Loki chuckled. "Has that ever stopped me before?"

"This time is different," Thor said.

But Loki just shrugged. "Do something about the beard at least, would you?" he said, then gestured with one hand, a movement that Thor recognized as the trigger to a spell. Then, even though Thor knew he was already asleep, somehow he felt himself passing out, going somewhere dark, dreamless, and quiet.

Until something pounded on the door to his cabin and he started awake with a groggy, "What? Whozzere?"

The door eased open and for a second, Thor thought this ship really might be inhabited by ghosts, because there was nothing there. But then his eyes tracked down to find Rocket standing in the doorway, staring at him like he thought Thor had taken one too many blows to the head. Maybe he had. "What's going on with you?" Rocket asked. It had taken awhile to get used to that sneer in his voice, but now Thor barely noticed.

"Nothing's 'going on' with me," Thor said. "I was sleeping until you woke me up. Maybe I should be the one asking what's going on with _you_."

Rocket rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the doorframe. "You were talking, buddy."

Thor looked around the cabin, feeling bewildered. His mind had replicated it exactly in his dream. When he dreamed of Asgard, details were always hazy, things jumped around, tapestries were just fuzzy blurs. But somehow, every detail in this room had been reproduced by his sleeping mind. Rubbing a hand over his face, Thor said, "I was dreaming." His cheeks were wet.

"Oh." Rocket paused. "Was she hot?"

"I was dreaming about my brother," Thor clarified.

At least Rocket had the grace to look chagrined. "The dead one."

"The only one," Thor said. He clenched and unclenched one hand a few times, remembering the feeling of holding Loki's arm. He could still feel the pleating of the leather sleeve. "We didn't get along for a while," he volunteered, wondering at the same time what had possessed him to say it.

Rocket waved a paw dismissively. "Eh. That's family, I guess." He cocked his head. "You made up in the end, right?"

Thor pressed his mouth into a thin line, feeling the hard press of sadness behind his face and in his throat, then looked at Rocket and nodded.

With a shrug, Rocket repeated, "That's family." He slid the door shut and Thor was still for a moment. He didn't remember sitting up when Rocket had knocked, but he must have. Sighing, he laid back down and closed his eyes, settling his hands at his sides.

The sheet felt warm at the edge of the bed, right where Loki had been sitting in his dream. Thor felt his brow furrow. Was he losing it? Really, truly, was he losing it? It was one thing to dream about his dead brother, and it was another to start to think that his dead brother had actually shown up on _The Benatar_.

His eyes opened. There was no point in staying in bed. He knew he'd never fall back asleep.

He rolled out of bed, almost tripped over Stormbreaker, and shuffled to the bathroom. Before he got there, though, he stopped and turned around slowly. When he'd gone to bed, Stormbreaker hadn't been next to his bed. That had been part of his dream.

Shaking himself, he continued on. Rocket had heard him talking in his sleep, no reason he couldn't have summoned Stormbreaker, too.

The tiny bathroom had an equally tiny mirror, one which Thor avoided looking at whenever he was in there. He hated seeing himself. He hated seeing what he'd become. Now, though, he took a deep breath and straightened up, staring himself in his own eyes. It was fitting that one of them wasn't even his, when he felt that he barely knew himself anymore.

Thor rested his palms on the edge of the sink and fought the urge to look away from his reflection. This shame and grief had been with him so long now that he didn't know if he'd recognize himself without it. But…

But the grief wasn't going anywhere, was it? Ever. The loss of his friends, his family, his people, that would be with him forever. The loss of Loki, who in sacrificing himself had proved that Thor had been right about him all along—that would always be with him. It was part of him now, as surely as blood, bone, lightning, and stardust was. There was no reason the shame had to be part of him too, though.

Thor swallowed. Maybe he could do something about the beard.


End file.
